almost 4:15pm
I’ve done many things
but written a poem today
eyeing the TV remote
I think of those corn puffs
hand on an icy root beer
the head wants to drift
back legs kick out
it’s time to entertain ME I whine
but here I sit
arms crossed
waiting for a subliminal
fly to land so with
a quick slap
I can drag it out
guts and all and
shape that last line
but nothing comes
4:30 chimes and as
the laptop folds closed
I see in the backyard
a ripened yellow mango
swinging wildly in the wind
holding on for dear life
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